The One in a Hundred Chance
by CNFan42
Summary: I am accepted Mamma-Ran's second 100 theme challenge on DievantART. It's going to be one big ROTBTD story set in a modren near future AU. There is no exact plot yet, but what I have planed out has the story mostly revolving around Jack. Rating T for now.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a long time since I've been back on my account. So the story... The first chapter is based on theme #39.

Jack is a homeless kid who gets himself into trouble one night and the events of that night change his life forever. You're just going to have to read it. please comment and enjoy. If you didn't enjoy, then this isn't a fanfic for you.

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><p>Alone<p>

He still remembers that night. The night that changed his life. It was a dark cold night, but he wasn't scared. Okay, maybe he was a little scared. Still, he could take care of himself. He's had to for as long as he could remember. To him, that was a long time. He couldn't once remember a time when he had a parental figure look after him and guide him through life's hardships. So he just had to learn to do things on his own.

His name was Jack Frost. How did he know this? He didn't really. Well, his earliest memory, that he could remember, was an audiable name. "Jack…" So he believed it to be his. He highly doubted that his last name was Frost, though. He got that name because of the kids he liked to help out; one kid in particular.

Jack's only real possession was some high-tech shepherd's crook. It only activated through his touch and had some strange ability to freeze liquids and shoot ice. The most he could figure was that it was his mom's or dad's; or uncle's if he had one. Still, he took it with him where ever he went.

Jack shivered in the cold wind that blew through the alley that leads to the business district. He only had a blue hoody over a long sleeve shirt; both thin. Just like the brown skinny jeans he wore. He was slowly losing feeling in his toes because he had no socks under his beaten sneakers. He had gloves that he had found. They were already missing a few fingers, so he took the rest off. Besides, finger gloves would only break the connection to his staff.

Jack finally got to the business district. He didn't often come here due to his kind, the broke, dirty, poorly dressed, and homeless kind; being unwelcomed, but he needed some money and who better to steal it from than wealthy stuck up snobby people who wouldn't give a nickel to a hunger person in need. Truth is he wasn't stealing for himself, but to buy some winter clothing from thrift stores to give to families. The thrift stores were the one place he didn't steal from.

He hide in the shadows for a bit till the walkway was clear. He then stretched his staff out and tapped the ground with it. Frost instantly formed and spread. It spread to the sidewalk. He waited a bit, then repeated it. Two more taps later, the frost built up into a decent sheet of ice. Smooth. Slippery.

He wasn't sure how it was able to do that and other strange things. He didn't particularly care, however. It was a handy tool to have and he didn't want to risk having it never work again because he took it apart. Or worse, having it work uncontrollably.

Jack waited for someone to come along. Someone did and as expected, they slipped and slid over the ice that they didn't see. Jack was unlucky to have this one keep his footing. As the lucky businessman swore at the ice, Jack silently swore himself. Guess I'll just have to keep waiting.

He waited. In the shadows.

In the cold dark night.

Shivering and starving.

He was about to give up for now and go looking for some scrapes. Maybe sneak into a restaurant's kitchen and get away with some freshly cooked food. Then he heard someone yelp. His first target tonight. A middle aged man nearly decked in black (suit, tie, shoes, and coat) was now on the ground; half on the sidewalk, half in the alley.

Jack left his staff behind as he went to "help" the gentleman. "Excuse me, sir. Are you alright?" The man looked up at the boy who held out his hand.

He found him to be quiet odd since he looked like a teenager, but with shocking white hair. Not to mention blue eyes to go with it.

Ignoring the hand, he got up on his own. "Yes, I'm fine." He said brushing himself off. "Just slipped. Where's my phone?" he looked around for it.

"There!" Jack pointed to the device that landed not too far away and still in good condition. The man went over to pick it up. This was his chance. If he could just pick his coat pocket before he turned around. There was a big enough of a bulge to tell that it had to be a wallet.

Jack reached out. The man still hadn't gotten up.

He was just inches away. So close.

He held his breath as he was about to dip his fingers into the pocket.

SNATCH. "Got'cha!"

Some scary looking guy came up from behind Jack and grabbed him by the wrist. He had a sick green Mohawk and piercings on his ears, nose, and lips. Jack never did like those kinds of piercings and it was creepier up close, but he had other things to worry about.

To his surprise, the man he was just trying to pick pocket was… calm. He just stood up and put his phone into his coat pocket. "What should I do with him, Mr. Black?"

Oh, crap. The man, Mr. Black, turned around, giving Jack an aura of creepiness even though he wasn't as creepy looking as this other guy. What more, Jack was legibly scared. "That is a good question?"

"Would you like us to take care of him, Master?" Another guy joined them. This one big, buffed with muscles, and had a few scars on his exposed arms. How was he not cold?

Jack was scared and couldn't tell if he was shaking from fear or from the cold. He thought he was frozen in place and if he was, he had no idea how he was able to yank his wrist free and start running. Running past Mr. Black, grabbing his staff and just running.

"He's getting away!"

"Do you want us to go after him, master?"

"Catch him and bring him to me, but don't beat him up… too much." With that, Mr. Black walked off, getting back to whatever business he had before. His two thugs went after Jack.

This is just what he needed. To be cold, hungry, and now scared. It couldn't… "There he is!" Oh, great! It could get worse. Now he was cold, hungry, and scared for his life. He had to loss these guys.

He swung his staff at a stacked pile of discarded boxes, knocking them over. He did the same with some trash filled garbage cans. He looked over his shoulder just long enough to see one jump over like it was nothing and the other plow right through.

The came to a sharp turn that lead out to a street. As Jack skid to make the turn, he made a patch of ice. Hopefully that will stop them. Or at least slow them down. The Mohawk guy did a jump over it, onto the wall, and jumping off, doing a roll on the landing. The other guy just went into the wall, but quickly recovered from it. Well that kinda worked.

They continued to chase after Jack as they exited the alleyway and on to a slightly busy street. Not busy enough. They would spot him from time to time as he would find himself in exposed areas. This just wasn't his day.

After weaving into another crowd, Jack duck into another alleyway. That was a bad idea because it quickly turned into a dead end. "He went this way!"

I am so dead. Without a moment's hesitation, Jack took the only possible exit and started climbing the fire escape. He was up on about the third level by the time those thugs caught up.

"He's getting away," complained the big guy. "Not for long. Go to Dark Knock Alley, I'll lead him there."

After Jack made it to the roof, he turned around to see Mohawk guy climbing after him, much faster than it took him. This guy just doesn't quiet. Jack was starting to get tired but knew if he stopped now it may be the end of him.

When the thug had finished climbing to the roof, Jack had jumped onto a slightly high and slopped roof. He got onto the roof just in time to see him reach the top and disappear onto the other side. He followed after him, ready to grab his gun when needed. He wasn't going to shot the kid. Just barely miss him when he was about to head in the wrong attended direction.

As they leapt from building to building, they didn't notice, not that they cared at the moment, the drop in temperature. Normally Jack would seek for the nearest abandoned place and do his best to create a small fire or find enough junk to pile and keep him warm. Temperatures like this meant snow; which he admired the beauty, but hated the discomfort it brought. Of course, he had other things to worry about.

He climbed to a higher roof flat. The thug still trailing him felt lucky. The kid had been pretty much going the right way the whole time. He may not need the gun.

When Jack made it to the top, he kept going, leaping down to a slightly lower flat. He thought he could keep going, but stopped inches from running over the edge. The next roof in front of him was too far to jump.

"You want to call this the end and come with us? Promise we won't hurt you." That last part didn't sound too trustworthy.

There was another roof to his right that he could jump to. What he didn't know was that it would lead him in the direction of Dark Knock alley, where the other guy would be. He had to think fast. Jack doesn't do well under pressure, so even if he does come up with an idea, it usual goes better in his head. So his choices were either the roof to his right or risk the jump behind him.

"Come on, kid. I don't have all night." The guy pulled out his gun; not intending to shot him, but how was Jack suppose to know? It was then Jack decided to take the roof to the right. Then he changed his mind. Normally, most wouldn't chance this and go the safest way, but Jack wasn't most normal people. (His appearance was one way of proving that.) Whereas the Mohawk guy thought he was going right, Jack surprised him when he did a last minute turn.

At the last minute, Jack had noticed a fire escape on the far away building. It was a long shot…

Jack leapt over the street below. Over what seemed and should be an injumpable gap between the two buildings; hoping that the fire escape was reachable, he jumped.

The thug stood there in disbelief, thinking the kid had a death wish. "Noo!" It was already too late to stop him.

For the moment of that one jump, time seemed to slow down. In all honesty, Jack didn't think he was going to make it. Then time speed up the moment Jack's hand grasped the handle bar. He slammed into the railing and it did hurt, but he held on and didn't care for the pain that much.

Jack let out the breath he held during his jump and began climbing. When he reached the roof, he only stopped to look back. The Mohawk guy stood there, shocked, then furious. He didn't care whether or not because he was already in trouble with letting him get away and he didn't like it when he was in trouble with his boss.

Jack turned back around and was leaving (to anywhere but there) when he felt a sudden sharp pain vibrate through his right arm. He did something between a scream and a yelp. The pain was so sudden that he dropped his staff. His reflexes made him grip his arm, but that seemed to make it hurt more. Jack looked to see that his sleeve was beginning to turn red. That wasn't good.

There might have been no point, but jack turned back to see the Mohawk guy had his gun raised and he could just see smoke or steam coming from the mouth of it. Jack booked it out of there as quickly as he could; picking up his staff and running. Shots were still fired at him, but luckly they missed. In the distance, he could hear something like, "YOU'RE DEAD!" Just what he needed to haunt his dreams for a while. He didn't really care. His mind was sort of in shock from the first shot.

Jack had made it a fair distance on the roofs and manged to find a place to climb down; carefully.

In all the day hadn't gone at all in his favor. First he gets caught pick pocketing, then chased through alleys and to the roofs. Does the biggest jump of is life and in the end gets shot in the arm. Now it was snowing and he still hadn't found a fairly safe place.

His arm hurt, but the cold had numbed it out; as well as his fingers, toes, and nose. He would glance at his sleeve now and then to see the blood loss progressing. It was half blue, half red. He had no idea how much blood he could loss before it kill him, but he was starting to feel light headed.

Jack had no idea where he was going. He wasn't even sure he was somewhere he knew well. The cold and blood lost made it hard to think right. He didn't register it till a minute later, but there was an open door in the alley way he was in. light poured from it and he could hear voices.

Then a big man came out. He had a black sack over his shoulder that he dropped into a dumpster. Considering the circumstances he was in, he would have taken help from (mostly) anyone.

"H-hel-lp-p…" he was freezing and tired.

It would have appeared that the large man heard him.

"P-p-pleassse. Hel-l-lp."

Jack felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. The man came running towards him. He looked shock to see someone like him have an entire arm covered in blood. So much had been lost that now his brain didn't care what sounds it heard. All he knew was that he was being lead inside.

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><p>This was a long one to type. The next one maybe just as long, but I will make it sound good.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Here's an early Christmas gift for OurDreamsLive, for liking this story. I was thinking of waiting till Christmas day, but decided not to torture you with the cliffhanger. This one is a bit longer than the last and still has bit of a cliffhanger as well, but ends on a happier note from before.

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><p>2. Toys<p>

Jack couldn't remember much of the rest of the night. He was about to believe he had the luck of winding up out back of a clinic because he was taking to a room with some white beds and medical supplies. His luck was never this good. He heard some names being called out. He picked up on none of them. They were too distant to him. He was then set down on one of the beds. His eyelids were threatening to close shut.

"Stay awake."

Jack registered that the man who lead him inside was now trying to talk to him.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Ja… Jack…"

"Jack? Well, Jack, I need you to stay awake."

Normally, Jack would find most night hard to fall asleep for several reasons (uncomfortable makeshift bed, the ground, chances of being a target for another bum, ect.). He never thought it would be equally as hard to stay awake. He kept going in and out of hardly aware to barely aware. He was aware enough to know that his hoodie and shirt was being cut off. Just barely enough to feel a damp cloth cleaning up the blood. He wasn't sure what happened after that.

The last thing he saw, before he passed out, what the clump of bloody towels and how much blood was still covering his arm.

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><p>Nicholas St. North had been closing up shop at the time. It had been a long and fairly successful day. He was taking out the trash when he heard someone say "Help." The word was eclipsed with chatter, though. He looked to the alleyway.<p>

There was a figure in the shadows. He couldn't make out who it was till they stepped closer to him. It was a teenage boy; possibly sixteen or seventeen. He looked tired. What caught North's attention more was his bleeding right arm. Its sleeve was half red and the blood was dripping off the tips of his fingers.

North immediately rushed over to the boy. He asked him if he was alright, but the boy didn't respond back. He must have lost a lot of blood. His eyes were cloudy and he was swaying. He took the boy inside, noting of how cold he was to the touch. He lead him though the back of his workshop, yelling at the workers still there to get out of the way. He took him straight to the infirmary, which was used for the workers who sustained injuries.

He quickly set the boy on the nearest bed. North could see the boy starting to drift off. He slapped him gently on the cheek, telling him to stay awake.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Ja… Jack…"

"Jack? Well, Jack, I need you to stay awake. Doctor will be in soon."

The doctor came in. At the time, he was the only one left and was about to head home when one of the other employees came up to him saying that their boss needed to see him right away in the infirmary. When he got there, he wasn't expecting to have a bleeding, homeless looking teenager on one of the beds. He didn't need to be told the problem. He could see the boy was clearly suffering from extreme blood loss from his right arm. He hand a pair of fabric scissors to his boss and told him to start cutting off his hoodie. As North did, the doctor was betting a bowl of water and some disinfectant as well as plenty of towels. When he came back with those items, he looked back at the boy. He was going to pass out at any minute. It was hard to say how much he had lost and if he needed a transfusion.

When his hoody and shirt was off, North went to work on cleaning the blood. The doctor checked his heartbeat. At least it was still there, not well, but there. He looked again at his patient who had passed out. So far things weren't looking good. He figured some rest would do him well, but they had to make sure he was at least somewhat conscious. Every now and then, the doctor would check his heartbeat and rate. After all the blood was cleaned, they made sure the bullet wound was clean of any lead or metal. Seeing that there was an exit wound sort of relieved things. At least that meant the bullet wasn't lodged in. So they disinfected it and wrapped it in bandages and gauze.

North didn't want to keep his doctor there any long than he had to. So he let him leave for the night. Before leaving, he told his boss that he would come in early tomorrow to check on the boy.

North carried Jack up to the living quarter part of his workshop. He had many spare rooms that were only really used by the employees and during the holiday rush (so they didn't have to go back and forth with work and home all the time). He put him in a room that was at the highest level of housing for his workers. It was a room that was just a few feet from and under his own. He stayed with him till midnight. The boy hadn't stirred, but was looking like he was doing well. Remembering who cold he was, North put a couple extra blankets and a quilt on him after tucking him in bed. He even turned up the heat on the thermostat to provide a little extra warmth.

North wondered, as he watched the boy, how he ended up the way he did. No doubt he was homeless, but how did he become homeless? Also, Jack's staff, which he now took the time to examine. It looked like a shepherd's crook, but very high tech. How did he come in possession of it? All anyone could do was wait till he woke up. So he retired to bed hoping the boy would be alright in the morning.

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><p>Jack didn't feel alright. It didn't feel like his arm was going to fall off, nor the bitter cold that usually would greet him in winter mornings. There were, however, still a few unpleasant feeling as well as some new ones. His arm, the one that had been shot, had a dull throb in it. It was the first thing he felt upon waking form his dreamless sleep. It quickly brought him to realize how warm he felt. He would had been thankful for being warm, but it made him feel uncomfortable like he was sick.<p>

He wanted to go back to sleep to escape these awful feelings. He just couldn't, though. As he gained more feeling, he felt something soft all around him. He was laying on it and it was on top of him. At first he thought snow, only snow isn't warm. To Jack, it felt great, but it still confused him. It was like he was in a dream, but knew he wasn't asleep. Also, Every now and then, Jack's body would twitch with waves of shivers. Each one pulling at him more to rejoin the world of the conscious. Seeing no point in fighting it, Jack attempted to open his eyes.

The place he was in had light dim enough for his eyes not to be blinded, but still see. The first thing he saw was fabric. Not dingy , dirty up, frayed cloth, but fabric that was clean, thick, and nicely stitched. From there he saw walls; one with a window that had the blinds pulled so that only a fraction of sunlight could get through. So that's where the light is coming from. Wait. Sunlight? Wasn't it nighttime? Jack tried to remember everything that had happened last night.

He remembered trying to pick pocket someone, then getting caught, which lead to being chased. He remembered being on the roofs and then that jump for dear life. That was kind of scary. Then…

Jack's right arm flared up in pain. He hissed to suppress a need to cry from it. He had never cried once in his life that he could remember and he wasn't going to start now.

Trying to ignore the pain, Jack continued to recollect his thoughts. After being shot, he just wandered around the alley he landed in after getting off the roofs. He believed he saw someone that came to him after he called out for help. After that… Jack thought he was lead inside and taken to some sort of infirmary, but he really couldn't recall. His mind was going fuzzy by that point. He came to the conclusion that he had passed out. Well, he was still here, so at least he hadn't died. But how long have I've been out?

He then found his clothes felt funny. He lifted the immense cover of blankets, with his other arm, to find that he wasn't in his old thin clothes, but a pair of grey sweat pant and a red sweat shirt. Who changed my clothes?!

It was then someone came in to the room. It was an old man with a long beard, but far from frail looking. This old man was big; about as big as that other thug that chat chased him. The difference between them was, for one: age; and that this guy appeared a lot more friendly.

"Good morning." He spoke kindly, too, and with an accent that sound Russian. Then again, jack didn't' know much on Russian accents since he hadn't met enough people with one.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Where am I?"

"My workshop. The living quarters of it anyways."

Jack tried sitting up, in what he realized as a bed, but his arm flared up once more. "Easy! Easy, my boy." He helped Jack sit up the rest of the way. "Your arm still hurts, doesn't it?" Jack nodded since he was in a bit too much pain at the moment.

"I wouldn't be surprised. That wound went right through your arm. No bones damaged or lodged metal bits, but you had lost a lot of blood. As soon as doctor had it stitched, you were out like light."

Jack, thought, he understood what he was saying. He could now recall a bit more clearly after being brought inside. He could recall his clothes being cut off (which would explain these new ones.) There was the coolness of the washcloths used to whip away the blood. He cringed a little remembering nothing, but black and moments of pain as it felt like something was poking in and out of his arm.

"Jack was your name, right?"

"Uh… yeah…" He wasn't sure if it was his real name.

"Well, Jack, I am Nicholas St. North."

North? That name sounded familiar. "Wait. North as in 'The North Pole Workshop owner' North?"

"The one and only." Jack felt light headed and about ready to pass out again; and he almost did. He would have said it was from shock that he was in the presence of the greatest toy maker of all time and not from the sudden spike in his fever. Still, some how he had grown more tired and overheated either in the last few seconds or gradually over the last few minutes. He wasn't really sure. All he knew was that the room was swaying one minute and the next Mr. North was holding him by the shoulder to keep him steady.

"Are you alright, Jack?"

"Just a little too warm."

"The doctor, who treated you, will be here soon. Here, have some water." North grabbed the glass of water that had been sitting on the nightstand since last night. Jack starred at it with partly lucid eyes. It was like a gift from the angels.

North held the glass as Jack, first took a small sip of water, then another, then a slightly larger one. He savored every last drop of clean water, regardless of how warm it was. He pulled back after drinking half the glass. "Thank you."

Jack laid back down. North left the room at one point, most likely to see if that doctor was here. While he was gone, Jack suddenly remembered his staff. He panicked, but quickly calmed down when he eyes spotted it in a corner by the window. He wouldn't know what he would do if he lost the one thing that has kept him alive and was the only clue to his true identity.

The doctor came in minutes later. North had already explained to him that the boy still felt pain in his arm and was now running a fever. A bad one after taking his temperature. He check the bullet wound and cleaned it a second time, then put fresh bandages on it. That was about all he could do. His boss told him that he wanted to watch over the him.

Everyone who knew or worked with him, knew that the man had a big heart for kids; teenagers were no exception. They knew that he would take time out of his busy work life to help a child in need. It made them wonder if he had any children of his own at one point. But right now, this one needed him, or someone, to watch over him.

All the doctor could do was leave him with some instructions: don't let his fever get too high and make sure he gets plenty of water. Keep him in bed with a damp cloth on his forehead. He left him with some medicine that would help with the fever and pain. They both agreed that the boy would need to eat as well. They were shocked after taking off his hoodie and short to see just how slim and bony he was.

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><p>For the past few days, after the night Jack was brought in, he had been getting better. Jack was woken up now and then, but he didn't mind because it meant food and water. He wasn't a big fan of the medicine, though. That liquid stuff- that helped with his fever- was vile to taste. He didn't mind complained, thought. The pills he took kept the pain to a dull, bearable throb.<p>

One day, when North came in to check on him, Jack was already awake. In his lap was the shepherd's crook.

"That's quiet an unusual item you have." Jack didn't hear him come in. he was a little startled, but didn't let it show much.

"Yeah. It it."

"I am curious," he started as he to a seat beside the bed. "As to where you got it."

For a while, Jack was silent. He looked in the opposite direction of North, but wasn't looking at anything in particularly.

"you don't have to tell me." Said North. "I won't pry. However, I would like to know how you got hurt."

Jack found that one just as difficult to answer. "Well… stuff like this just … sometimes happen.. when you… live on the streets." Well it wasn't a total lie. "And how long has that been?"

Jack bit his bottom lip, hoping he would just as easily let it go like the other one, but there was probably no avoiding it. "About… three years now?"

North didn't hide that he was surprised to hear this. Then again, he should have expected to hear something like this.

"My parents…" Jack wasn't entirely sure if he was comfortable telling him anything personal or that wasn't true. So he told him something that was sort of believable. "My parents died about four years ago. I didn't have any known relatives, so I've been taking care of myself since." It wasn't a lie because for all he knew his parents were dead, but it wasn't the truth either.

North, however, seemed to believe it. He didn't ask it, but he figured that the staff was a memento of them. Which would be why he didn't seem too quick to answer when he asked about it. This new information about Jack put North into a difficult position. Here was a teenage boy who had lost his parents and has been just barely surviving on his own for the past few years. He nearly died a couple nights ago and if he hadn't have seen the boy when he did, or the boy had been anywhere else at that time with that injury, he probably would be dead. So what does one do with a child after caring for them because they happened across you, bleeding and asking for help? One thing was for sure. You simply don't throw them out after that. Especially, if they're homeless and without family or friends to care for them. So he asked him.

"Would you like to stay here for one or two more nights?"

Jack starred at him, eyes wide. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. Heck, he couldn't believe any of this was real. It had all been like a dream. Waking up in the care and home of the city's greatest toy maker, then offered a few more extra night of stay. Just the past few day of being sick had been luxury for him. That's it. I really did die in an alley and have gone to heaven. "No. I couldn't."

"It would be no trouble."

"I've already over stayed my welcome and I appreciate what you've done for me, Mr. North." Jack got out of bed, attempting to head out the door. "I just couldn't" North stopped him.

"North."

"Huh?"

"You can just call me North. And, if you're that adamant about leaving, how about I give you tour of my workshop before you go?"

Seeing how the great toymaker makes his goods? That was practically every kid's dream. Okay, Jack was a teenager , but was practically a kid at heart. This offer, he would gladly accept.

North led him down to the highest level of the workshop. He explained to Jack that everything above this floor was pretty much his home or housing for some workers. As they went from floor to floor, He explained what they did at each of the different departments and how they did it. He even threw in a few stories how things that had happened in that area that were sometime funny. Jack was intrigued to hear it all and wanted to get up close to just about everything that moved mechanically. At one point, North had to pull him back from a sewing machine so it didn't stitch his nose.

Jack noted that a lot of the workers that were there this early in the morning, were either really big like their boss or really short like children (with the exception of any female workers). But he gave all of them credit, seeing them make such amazing toys. Before, he would only look at them through the window of the store, wondering what it was like to be one of those lucky kids whose parents just bought it. Now he was getting to see cars and hovercraft toys being made next to animatronic toy birds and Suzui dolls. There was every toy imaginable and ones that weren't being sold anywhere else.

The tour ended with a quick showing of the actual store. Being in there made it almost feel like it was really Christmas. The way parts of the interior shined. It wasn't just the toys that were crafted. The hand railing, columns, ceiling, that and the added holiday decorations. This was Santa's workshop alright. Jack wished he could have stuck around in there a little longer, but they were about to open shop. The last thing people needed to see when they first come in is some kid in pajamas.

North gave him some old clothes that he had in storage, but about were about Jack's size. After all, the ones he had before were no good. He gave him socks to actually keep his feet warm. He also gave him a light blue long sleeve turtle neck. The old brown jacket was a little big on him, as was the jeans; North gave him a belt to help keep them up. Jack still kept his shoes and fingerless gloves.

After grabbing his staff from the room he had been in for the past few days, he stepped out through the back door he first came in through. The cold didn't seem to affect him as much.

"Thank you, North. For everything."

"Don't mention it. And come back any time you need a place for the night. My doors will always be open for you."

Jack left feeling… well, the happiest he could remember. For once he got to sleep in a decent bed. He got fed food that wasn't partly rotten. He was going to miss it, but he didn't want to be a burden. So why did a part of him feel sad that he turned down the offer to stay?

As for North, he didn't like letting Jack go like that. He figured, though, that it couldn't be helped. The boy hardly knew him so it wasn't like he could trust him in an instant. Plus, he didn't want to be forced to stay, even if it was to help him.

It was then that north thought of something, but all he could do was wait and hope Jack would consider coming back soon. If he did, North would give him an offer that he hoped the boy would take.

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><p>I was thinking of introducing Merida in the next Chapter. Either her or Tooth and Bunny. I will like it to you, the readers, to decide.<p> 


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